


Of Saturdays, Pigeons and Burdens Shared

by Karijn



Series: A family of bones [4]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Martyr Complex, Medical Emergency, Multi, Percinnamon Roll, but has two people who love him anyway, he's an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-20 11:46:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9489740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karijn/pseuds/Karijn
Summary: Percival Graves protects. It is the only way he knows to show people that he cares.Or, the getting together story.(In the storyline, this comes before 'Bigger Than These Bones', but it can be read as a stand-alone.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> H/C fics give me life and bring out the best in me. Hurt!OPG is the most beautiful thing.

Percival Graves was a man of honour and firm values. He had graduated from Ilvermorny's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had completed the requested 4 years course to become an Auror and had started his internship at MACUSA, climbing ranks fast until the title of Director of Magical Security was his.

Throughout his life, his main drive was to protect.

The first of three brothers, he was supposed to look out for them, be the one to make the new experiences so when their time came, he could guide them and warn them of the possible dangers. In Ilvermorny he was Wampus' House Haunt's Head in his fifth year, responsible of order and guidance to the younger students.

Puberty filling out his body with broad shoulders and thick limbs only reinfoced this idea in his mind that he was a protector, a shield between those who could not protect themselves and those who wanted to abuse their power or privilege.

His parents had been relentless in their quest to persuade him to find someone to marry and perpetuate the family name but, luckily for him, his brothers had helped him out in that. With two grandsons and three granddaughters, his parents were now secure that the Graves' name would live on and mercifully left him to his career.

It was easier to protect when you were alone.

In his mind, a family was something that was supposed to depend on him on more than just protection. It would need his presence. He had accepted that one day his strenght would not be enough to shield those behind him and that he would be swept away, leaving his family alone. With this knowledge in mind, how could he mislead a dear person so much? 

 

Why would you make someone depend on you, when you knew one day you would be asked to lay down your life to protect a stranger?

 

The thing Director Percival Alexander Graves did not consider, is that one does not choose to care about someone. Sometimes people fall in your life, and you start looking at it differently, just because of them.

Which is why Graves was so miffed after a couple of meetings with Newt Scamander and Credence Barebone.

He had spend the first few months after being rescued from Grindelwald's watch in and out of Saint Camille's Hospital for Magical Care and Rehabilitation, being subjected to a multitude of healing spells and hours of rehabilitation. In between the days of abuse (honestly, nurse Henderson was more ruthless than Grindelwald), he would take his cane and hobble to Central Park to get a little bit of peace from the human world.

Percival Graves had never seen a man's eyes grow so big or someone ran so fast as the day he met Credence Barebone.

He had been sitting on a bench, feeding the pigeons, when a gasp had made him raise his head. In front of him stood a young man, tall and with a very unfortunate haircut. Graves had furrowed his brow, not really understanding why he was looking at him half scared and half angry. Had he arrested him before?

Was it a trick of the light or the boy's eyes were turning white?

“Credence!”

Another tall man was running towards them, long legs eating the distance at a mad pace. The newcomer had a mop of auburn curls on his head and a blue coat that billowed behind him as he ran. He stopped in between them, facing the younger male.

 

“This is not him,” panted the man, gesturing behind himself to a still sitting Percival, “Remember when I told you they found the real Graves after Grindelwald's capture? This is not him.”

 

And so Percival Graves met the man responsible for his captor's capture (wasn't that kind of ironic?) and the 'weapon' that Grindelwald often ranted about when he deigned to visit his prisoner.

Apparently catching the greatest dark wizard of their time had granted Newt a permit to study some of the more reclusive creatures in North America and he had stayed, using New York as his base of operations. Graves only hoped none of the creatures mentioned in Scamander's stories were actually present in his city. A movement aggressive snake who could grow as big as the space it inhabited? Had the man never heard of Jormungand?

Credence Barebone had been a different story. The MACUSA had believed the Obscurus had been destroyed but, in fact, a sliver of it had survived, and its host along with it. Not knowing where to go, the boy had gone to the only person who had showed him kindness in his life, reinstated Auror Porpentina Goldstein. Who had called Scamander.

Together, they had pleaded with President Picquery for a pardon, which was granted with the clause that Scamander would be responsible for him and any damage he would cause should the Obscurus be released again.

The truth was that, in the presence of a calm person who meant no harm to him, Credence was still shy, but extremely curious and a willing help with the brit's creatures and it wasn't long before the young man had become more of an apprentice than a charge for the redhead.

Central park was perfect for practice.

A big expanse of greenery and water, where the sounds of the city did not reach. It was big enough to find a number of creatures, but not big enough to risk getting lost or encountering anything too dangerous.

If you didn't count Percival Graves as dangerous.

Still underweight and unable to walk more than twenty steps without needing to stop and breathe, the auror felt less dangerous than the pigeons he fed. But Credence still sat on the far end of the bench, with Scamander safely between them.

Some days he had physiotherapy, other days the two were somewhere in the US, looking for odd creatures, but any other day that they were not otherwise occupied, at 10AM you could find all three on the benches near Bethesda Terrace.

 

================================

 

Weeks passed and the three men changed.

 

Graves slowly gained his strenght back, the first time he went to Central Park without his cane Scamander ( _“Call me Newt, please.”_ ) insisted on all three getting celebratory hot-dogs from the street vendor nearby.

Newt had finally published his book, which centered mostly on European and African creatures, and he was now starting to gather the needed materials to add American creatures for the future second edition.

Credence had finally gotten his wand and had started learning magic, under the careful guidance of Newt, and had let his hair grow out. But the bigger change, in Percival's eyes, was that one day the brit had been in his study, writing a chapter of his book, and Credence had gone out to meet him. Alone. 

He had willingly sat beside him and took some crumbs from the paper bag Percival always brought to feed the pigeons. There was a comfortable silence between them.

Looking at those pale wrists and content upturn of lips, Percival felt his old protective drive resurface.

 

He tried to tell himself that both Newt and Credence were indipendent adults, outside of MACUSA jurisdiction, and that he had no right to have such feelings towards them. But every time Credence looked at him for approval or Newt recounted all the dangerous encounters he had with creatures over the years, the protector beast inside him screeched and clawed at his mind.

These were the people he could not protect from Grindelwald. He would not, could not fail them again. 

The Vexationis Exsequere was old magic. In the beginning it was supposed to be a marriage ritual, 'until death do us part' did not exist in the wizarding world until the American Pilgrimage in the middle 1700. Afterwards it had been used by warriors and soldiers, during the wars that followed.

_A burden shared is a burden halved_ , after all.

The spell would make sure that any damage that one would take, the other would suffer as well, but the effect on both would be diminished. This meant that a mortal would would not be so. Unfortunately, this concerned only damage, as healing was not transmitted by the spell, which was one of the reasons why the spell fell in disuse after the evolutions of field healing. After all, if a mortal would could be healed anyway, what was the point of halving its damage?

Percival had never heard of the spell being performed in the current day, but ever since he learned of it during Magical History, he had been fascinated by it. The idea of defending a loved person from any wound was very appealing to the protector side of him. Especially since the spell had a very convenient loophole.

If it was not performed by both people, the damage transfer would only go one way.

He would be sure not to cause any pain should he ever be wounded or die, but he would share everything the other person suffered. The spell could also be used between more than two people, it was not an exclusive bond.

It was perfect.

He would start his work at MACUSA in three days. Afterwards, it would be hard to go to Central Park every day to meet the other two men but they had made him swear to be there every Saturday at 10AM, and they would be there to meet him.

He watched with fond amusement as Credence moved his hands to explain how he was thinking of using the Niffler to help map the migration routes and nesting places of Occamies, while Newt was trying, with little success, to get some pigeons to eat directly from his hand.

“After three months, one would believe you would have given up by now,” chuckled the auror.

“Patience is the key, Percival, time will prove me right, just watch,” assured the british man with a wide smile.

 

Neither man noticed the purposeful movements of Graves' hand, weaving magic around them and locking the spell into place. 

 

========================================

 

The first week back to work was uneventful and filled with paperwork. Goldstein had been running the department with a meticulous organization, but she lacked the experience, so many documents had been left to be filled and filed. Anything from the Grindelwald period had to be reassessed and all documents redacted again. Percival was sure his fingertips had been erased after handling tons of papers.

 

The first time the spell made itself known, it was a couple of days after their first Saturday in the Park, when he felt a sharp sting in his left index finger. Looking at it, he noticed a sluggishly bleeding V shaped cut near the first joint. Credence was left handed, he probably got bit while feeding some of their creatures. He licked the blood away, whispered a quick healing charm and went back to his paperwork.

 

Credence and Newt let him know that they would miss their fourth Saturday because they would be going in Chile to study the Alicantos, small glowing birds with an affinity for metal. During certain nights, Percival wakes up with the impression of rainbow flashes behind his eyes.

 

A couple of weeks later the temperature slowly rises and flowers start to bloom. Mating season, Newt had told him during their ninth Saturday. All creatures would start to behave more aggressively, their Graphorns only the first of the lot. Percival has a black bruise that spans his whole right leg and forced him to bring out his old cane for a week. He doesn't know if it was Newt or Credence, but he's happy he could spare them from a broken bone.

In the middle of spring, a ring of precious metals traffickers tried to establish itself in New York. Of course, Newt and Credence stumbled upon them while trying to contain the over-excited Niffler ( _“Crates full of gold and diamonds, Percival, he literally didn't know what to grab first.”_ ). The chaos that followed had Graves going out with four different Obliviator Squads to contain the damage. 

He would later claim that the black shirt he wore was the first thing he had under hand, but it was a calculated choice because he hadn't had the time to wrap all the scratches (Was that a bullet graze? What in Salem's Fires is happen-) that had appeared on his body that fifteenth Saturday morning.

But every bruise that appeared and every cut that bled only made him more glad of his choice. 

Credence was smiling more and more each Saturday, as was Newt. While the younger boy would always be shy of his touch, he sat closer to him, their thighs touching and was always eager to share his new experiences in magic, accepting the tips that Percival would suggest from time to time. In comparison, the redhead was a very touchy-feely person with those he was comfortable with.

He would greet him with both hands on his shoulders, touch his arm as he talked, placing his hand on his back to catch Percival's attention. The man had a perfect understanding of personal space from working with his creatures, but he had decided that Percival's was fair game, as was Credence's. 

 

The auror felt so glad to have his trust, their trust.

Even when Newt's hand pressed on the newest cut or the freshest bruise.

 

Just before their twenty-second Saturday the two of them had departed from New York once again, to search for Hodags in Winsconsin, leaving Percival to deal with the usual NY troubles. Traffickers, the odd magic accident, the third floor terrorizing MACUSA with the implementation of the new Employees Recognition Pass for Enhanced Security ( _ERPES? Were they serious?_ ) and so on.

He really didn't think of anything when he felt the umpteenth sting on his shoulder.

Luckily it was night and he was at home, so he took off his pajama's shirt and picked a towel, pressing it against the small puncture. After twenty odd seconds he raised the towel, only to quickly put it on the wound again, as bright red blod kept spilling out. When he tried again, after a couple of minutes, it was still sluggishly bleeding. Percival pressed the towel on it again and went to search for his wand.

He was almost to the dressing table were his wand was laying when a painful hit to his left flank pushed him to his knees. The inital hit left space for a deeper pain that closely resembled a morse trying to squeeze his lower back. He tried to breathe through the pain, but his mind was concentrated solely on the other two men. Were they alright? Would they be able to get out of whatever danger they were in?

As he panted on his hardwood floor, he felt the pain slightly diminish and he felt calmer. If it hurt less for him, it meant it hurt less for them. If no other hit followed, he was pretty sure his boys would be fine. Very bruised but fine.

He slowly got up on his feet, took his wand and whispered a spell to close the wound on his shoulder. 

When he tried to go towards the bed, another cramp on his back made him pause and take more deep breaths. With very little steps, he finally reached the bed and managed to lay on it. The pain was now a dull presence on his lower back, slowly moving towards the front as well.

Percival was sure that a night of sleep would do wonders for his body.

Sparing a final thought to Newt and Credence (Should he get them a two way mirror? It would be way easier to communicate when they were away), he closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a bit undecided what to give him, but in the end I stayed generic or I would have never finished the chapter. Most names are actual animals and plants that do all that is written in the fic, I do love to mix real and not. Hope you enjoy.

When Percival woke the following morning, it was with a groan, and he tried to pick up his wand to stop the intermittent Lumos spell he had set up as morning alarm. Tried because he had forgotten about the hit he had received and trying to turn his chest to reach for the want was not. a. good. idea.

 

_What was he thinking?_

 

The piercing pain calmed down after a couple of minutes of staying still and went back to a dull pulsing. He bent his head to look down and, even in the dim light, he could see the ugly black bruise cover his whole flank. It probably already covered half his back.

Getting out of bed felt like a titanic effort, but he was finally on his feet, clean and dressed. He might have used magic to get his clothes on and groom himself, but no one had to know that.

Raising his left leg sent spikes of pain to his belly, but he was moving as slowly as he did when he got out of Grindelwald's clutches, so it was manageable. Feeling parched, he filled a glass of water and drank it in one gulp but one look at the bread and cheese that was sitting on the kitchen table had him nauseous.

He drank some more water, and apparated to work.

 

Why. On. Mercy's. Green. Earth. MACUSA. Needed. So. Many. STEPS?

 

His back and flank were one column of fire and pain every time he had to raise his leg to take a step, and he was just at the main atrium. He still had all the stairs to his office and his back was drenched in sweat. A really nice way to start the day. Maybe he should have stayed home.

He reached his office and leaned on his desk with both hands, feeling decidedly light-headed.

With the last of his strength he managed to sit down on his chair, ignoring the pain that made itself known once again on his back. Hell, even his ass hurt. He tried to shift but nothing changed, the sensation of dull pain and pressure was spread throughout his pelvis, on every inch of skin that touched the cushion.

With a deep breath he looked at the pile of paperwork he had to fill for the day and he let his head fall back to look at the ceiling. A week of those documents could feed a fireplace in New York probably for the entire winter.

He could feel the beginning of an headache behind his eyes as he bent forward to take the first folder of the day.

Then the door opened.

 

“Percival!”

 

Two heads came in, one of auburn curls and the other of black ones, with smiles on their faces. He couldn't help but smile back. They looked unhurt, he was glad.

“You are early, I thought you would be gone longer,” he said.

“We were supposed to, but then we had a bit of trouble yesterday, mind if we sit?” Newt gestured to the two chairs in front of Percival's desk.

Percival shook his head and shifted a little more in his seat. The pressure was ever present, but at least the pain was manageable. He would have to stop by the Infirmary before going home to take some pain-relieving potion.

“We did find those Hodags, a fine nest, even, but I didn't take into consideration how close we were to the lakes. The swamp-like habitat and the excrements of the Hodags make a perfect habitat for Prati Ganthana Bees. They're native from India, but they're infestants here,” explained Newt while a silent Credence was starting to look at the floor, almost guiltily.

“Don't worry Credence, it wasn't your fault. This insects are not exactly dangerous, but their bite injects you with a blood thinner and the effect lasts for about a week. And then the Hodag bull came out.”

 

The auror could see it play out along with the timing of his injuries, first the bite and then...

 

“I was able to push Credence out of the way so the bull bumped into me. It could have been dangerous if he was the one to get the hit. Hodags are not that big, but their muscle to size ratio is staggering, I'm still feeling it even after a pain relieving potion.”

“I am glad you're fine, I would hate for something to happen to you. Either of you,” he made sure to let them both know.

His headache was still hovering behind his eyes but instead of pulsing and burning it was almost like his head was shrouded in cotton, making it harder and harder to concentrate on what Newt was saying.

“Since it's going to be a week before Credence can get out again and not risk bleeding to death if something bumps into him, I thought we could come back to New York. Pay you a surprise visit. It is almost Saturday, after all.”

“Are you feeling alright, Mr Graves?” asked Credence out of the blue.

Percival directed a hopefully inquisitive look towards the young man. A bit hard to with a couple of coloured spots dancing in front of his vision. Was it an aura? He already had the headache anyway.

“You look pale,” explained the Obscurial.

“I am fine,” he said, passing a hand on his forehead and finding it slightly damp.

“You always overwork yourself, Percival. How about we take a break and bring you out for a late breakfast?” asked Newt standing up from his chair, followed by Credence.

“You look like you could use some fresh air.”

What he didn't do for the people he cared about.

He placed his hands on the table, using his arms to give him the strength necessary to stand up. Of course, his side did not agree with the movement, but he gritted his teeth and stood.

 

========================================

 

As soon as he got up he could hear a strange whistling in his ears. He tried to turn his head to pinpoint where it came from but a mass of black took his vision from him. He could still feel the desk beneath his fingers, he could feel he was standing upright, even if barely, but he saw nothing.

There was a shuffling sound, then two sets of hands were on him, steadying.

He still could not see anything, but he could feel his hands start trembling.

“Percival, are you feeling ok?”

The voice came from his left, but it was muted, as if it was underwater. His knees were holding him up for now, but the pressure in his back was like a weight dragging him down. A couple of seconds passed and slowly the black started to recede and he was faced with Newt's worried expression.

“Fine,” he swallowed.

“You look grey, Percival. Are you sure you're not ill?”

He tried to straighten himself before answering but it seemed like his body had had enough. First gave in his hips and then his knees. Later he would probably apologize to Credence for falling on him with all his weight, but at that moment he felt like his body was made of lead, the dark coming back, obscuring the corners of his vision.

 

He felt so heavy, so

 

tired.

 

He heard Newt tell Credence to go and find help, Tina, anyone, and either call a healer or find a way to transport him to Saint Camille's. He tried to tell him that it was fine, he just needed a couple of minutes and he would get up again but the black overtook him once again.

Newt's hands were at his neck, loosening his tie and the first buttons of his shirt and then pressing slightly under his jaw. He loved when Newt touched him, it never failed to make his heart race. It felt like it was beating a hundred times a minute.

 

_When had he closed his eyes?_

 

Opening them again was a struggle that had his chest heaving with effort. He did try to tell Newt he was fine, but his voice escaped him. There was simply no time between a breath and the other to say anything.

“It's going to be ok, Perce, help is coming, please hold on.”

Newt sounded worried. A small part of Percival was happy that the redhead cared, the other... If Newt was worried he wasn't doing a very good job protecting him. He would definitely do better. Tomorrow.

Now he just needed to

 

rest a-

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Percival opened his eyes again, the ceiling was pale green and illuminated by small candles.

 

Saint Camille's.

 

He took a small inventory of his body. There was no black in his vision and his headache was gone, even though he still felt a bit fuzzy. He was no longer breathing like he had just run a marathon and the pain in his back and side was down to a manageable level, even if he tried to move his hips.

A hand catched his as soon as he moved.

His heart kept on beating too fast.

Newt looked almost ethereal, pale skin and freckles illuminated by the candles, Credence at his side, with eyes so pale they were almost white.

 

_White?_

 

The Obscurial was close to losing control, was there some danger close?

“Hide. Whatever it is, I will protect you,” he whispered to the young man and tried to sit, before Newt pushed him down and kept him there with his hands on his shoulders.

“Newt-” he tried to say but the redhead interrupted him.

“You will shut up right now, you insufferable man, and you will listen.”

 

And people thought the brit was meek.

 

“You almost died.”

 

A sob escaped Credence's lips and those eyes, back to their usual dark colour, were filled with tears. Newt's blues were also swimming behind a curtain of liquid sorrow.

“You did not answer me anymore. When we brought you here, the healers had no idea where to start, they thought you were healthy when they sent you back to work. I realized what was wrong when they took off your shirt. You had the same puncture wound as Credence, in the same spot.”

His shoulders were now in more pain than his back, Newt had strong hands.

 

“Do you know how it feels to see your exact same bruise on another person?”

 

He could feel Credence's hand covering his own.

“Americans are not the only ones who study binding rituals.”

 

Percival averted his gaze. He had never meant for them to find out. Had never wanted to cause them pain. Newt sat back on his chair with a sigh.

 

“Once you know what's wrong, you know where to begin. The Fagara xanthoxyloides bark is difficult to harvest, but Saint Camille's had a few in storage, they used it to counteract the effect of the Prati's venom. After that, it was just a matter of getting enough blood into you to bring you back from shock.”

A pale hand touched him on his cheek and then posed on his neck. He raised his eyes and found Credence leaning over the bed. It was the first time the young man had touched him so deliberately and his heart clenched at the thought that he had hurt him so much that he had to step out of his comfort zone.

He should have protected them better.

 

“Release the Spell,” said Credence in a soft but determined voice.

 

_Yes, no can do._

 

“You are in constant danger and I cannot be there every time. I need you both to be safe. You are important to me,” he replied, putting his hand over Credence's.

It was important, he would not back up on this.

 

“And you are important to us as well.”

 

That, Percival did not expect. He knew that Newt and Credence enjoyed their Saturdays together, he would even go as far as to say they were fond of him, but what he wanted to say was not... Maybe he should try a different approach?

“I'm glad to hear that but I. You are the only ones I would do this for. You are what matters to me the most.”

“I cannot los-”  
And what would have followed got lost in a kiss.

 

Newt had snuck in, silent and quick, and slotted his lips against Percival's.

 

The kiss ended there, with a smile on the redhead's lips and a befuddled look on the auror's face. Still unbelieving, he looked at Credence, who had a bashful smile on his lips and a rosy blush on his cheeks.

“You are important to us, Mr. Graves.”

 

“Release the spell,” repeated Newt.

 

“Please, I cannot let you-”

“You have a dangerous job as well, Percival, don't you think we worry? That we would love to protect you from harm? What you're doing just puts you at risk. So either release the spell or let us fulfill it.”

A cold hand gripped his insides and twisted.

“'A burden shared is a burden halved', weren't those the words spoken just before saying the spell?”

 

“No!”

 

No, he wouldn't let them take the brunt of his pain. They were just doing research, for knowledge, any danger would come only in bruises and broken bones. It was Percival's wounds that would be the ones to kill them. Cuts, bullet wounds, Unforgivables.

Unforgivable.

It wasn't something that he would ever consider.

Newt's hand came up to cradle his other cheek, while Credence's sat comfortably on his neck.

“Please.”

He could not be sure who said that, but he was not willing to have them carry this burden. If there truly was no other choice, he would let them go. He couldn't risk their safety by having them under the Vexationis spell.

“Hey,” murmured Newt, putting his fingers underneath Percival's chin, raising it and forcing the Auror to meet his eyes.

“It just means that you will have to keep us closer,” smiled the redhead with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Percival looked at his with fond exasperation and then looked at Credence, who nodded his assent.

 

_What he wouldn't do for them._

 

**“Absolvo vinculum.”**


End file.
